


Fal-Tor-Pan or: How to Accidentally Get Married on Vulcan

by mymetalphantom



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymetalphantom/pseuds/mymetalphantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock and McCoy discover a strange side-effect to the fal-tor-pan. McCoy also discovers a secret that Spock has been keeping for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fal-Tor-Pan or: How to Accidentally Get Married on Vulcan

**Author's Note:**

> It's meant to be light-hearted and silly, and perhaps a little bit cute too. Inspired by far too many conversation during The Search for Spock.

“I’m gonna kill him!” were the words that preceded Doctor Leonard McCoy down the corridor. The automatic door seemed to ‘swoosh’ open with a greater degree of urgency, as the doctor stormed through, shoulders set and fists clenched; a man on a mission.

“Uh oh,” Admiral Kirk whispered to himself as he sat and watched the oncoming storm that was his CMO and best friend.

“I’m gonna kill him!” he repeated as he paced in front of Kirk, flailing his arms about, “and this time he’d better stay dead. Cos if he doesn’t...I’m gonna have to kill him again!” The words sounded strained, he was so taut with anger, teeth clenched.

This conversation needed booze. Unfortunately they were in the house of Ambassador Sarek, and this house was as dry as the Vulcan desert.

“All right, Bones,” Kirk said, going into ‘Diplomat Mode’. 

“All right, Bones nothing!” McCoy growled, not slowing his pacing. It was far too hot and stuffy to pace. It was making Kirk sweaty and tired just watching him. “Did you hear about this shit?”

Kirk sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, Amanda told me about the bond.”

“Bond? Bond?” McCoy stopped pacing now and stood over Kirk, his expression still a wild mixture of anger, frustration and terror. “You know what that is, don’t you? It’s just the uptight Vulcan term for marriage!”

Kirk went to say something but McCoy cut him off, which was just as well because Kirk couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say. There were no words that could make this situation seem any less weird and ridiculous.

“Marriage, Jim! I’ve tried it twice now and you know what I’ve learned from that? That I’m not very good at it.”

Kirk wanted to laugh. Not just because it all suddenly seemed hilarious, but because there was something inherently funny about McCoy when he was in ‘Ranting Mode’.

“I know, Bones. Look...”

“And let’s not forget the most important part of this,” McCoy continued, his own rant rushing uncontrollably ahead of him now. “That I’m now married to SPOCK!”

Kirk couldn’t hold it in any longer; this time he really did laugh. And not just a little chuckle either, a full, uncontrollable, shaking shoulders kind of laugh. Once it started he couldn’t stop it until he began to fear that he had become hysterical. 

“It’s not funny!” McCoy yelled at him, which just made him laugh harder.

“I know...it’s just...” he managed to squeeze out between bouts of breathless laughter. “I’m sorry,” he finally got out as he calmed himself. He paused for a moment to wipe his eyes and regulate his breathing. “Sorry, it’s just so...”

“Ridiculous?”

“Yes, ridiculous.” The laughter ebbed, turning to a staccato, choking sound.

McCoy, the anger finally released, flopped down onto the couch next to him. Kirk looked over at his friend as he slumped down against the cushions and rubbed his tired eyes. It was easier to feel sorry for him when he looked defeated like that. His sides still aching, Kirk managed a soft smile without breaking into hysterics again.

“I’ve just had to listen to some Vulcan healer tell me that, although there is a ninety-two per cent chance that the bond can be broken there is also an six per cent chance that it’s permanent.”

“Okay,” Kirk said, wishing for the second time that there was some alcohol available. It was the unwritten rule of their friendship; heavy conversations required liquor. 

“And a two per cent chance that it could kill me when they try to remove it.”

“But that’s only a very slim possibility.”

“I don’t know how they can know that,” McCoy answered, folding his arms. “They never have to do this type of procedure. It’s so rare they don’t even have an unpronounceable name for it.” McCoy paused and looked out into the distance. “Stupid Vulcans.”

“Spock couldn’t have known that would happen,” Kirk assured him. “I mean, he did think he would still be dead at this point.”

McCoy let out a long sigh. “I know. Doesn’t stop me being pissed off, though.” McCoy looked over at Kirk and gave him a weak smile. “That makes three marriages down the can now.”

“I wasn’t keeping score.” Yes, they still needed booze. 

A moment passed in silence. Utter silence. Nobody else in the house was speaking, there was no passing traffic and the breeze had died about an hour ago leaving the air stagnant.

Kirk chuckled to himself as another truly absurd thought came to him. “You could always just stay married.”

McCoy looked over at him incredulously. “That’s not very funny.”

Kirk managed to swallow his laugh this time. “I think it would be very cute,” he joked.

McCoy’s eyebrow shot further up his forehead. “Now, I know we’re all getting on a bit and our memories aren’t what they used to be, but you remember me and Spock right? What we were like?”

“Yeah,” Kirk replied with a shrug. “You argued all the time and you never had sex. Sounds to me like you’ve been married for years.”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed at him. “What do you know about marriage, anyway?”

“Hey, I thought about it once,” Kirk said defensively, which just made McCoy roll his eyes.

“Anyway,” McCoy said, changing the subject, “I have to talk to Spock about all this at some point. It’s gonna be just as difficult for him, y’know?”

“I don’t envy you that conversation,” Kirk said, shuddering at the thought.

McCoy released a breath and rested his head on the back of the couch. “If nothing else, I wanna give him a piece of my mind.”

Kirk grinned, picturing it in detail. “You’ll enjoy that.”

There was another silence. It was okay, though. Kirk and McCoy had never felt uncomfortable together, even when they were just sat there, lost in their own thoughts.

The doctor sighed again and he seemed to make up his mind to act. “Wish me luck?” he asked as he stood.

Kirk joined him, took a military stance and looked at McCoy earnestly, as though he was about to embark on a dangerous away mission. “Good luck, Commander,” he joked.

McCoy rolled his eyes. “That’s not funny,” he growled before he stalked out of the room. 

Kirk could only laugh; a painful, nervous laugh.

 

*****

 

After about an hour of procrastination (procrastination that had involved a can of red paint and their stolen Klingon ship) McCoy finally found the inner strength to go and see Spock. He knew where he would be; in his private quiet room, where he had spent hours deep in thought or studying, trying to find himself again amongst the jumble of thoughts and memories that had been transferred from McCoy’s head back into his own. It had taken time and great patience (well the Vulcans had been patient, anyway) but finally their old friend was shining through once more.

Not that it’s gonna make this conversation any easier, McCoy thought as he lurked outside the door. In the end he forced himself to press the chime.

He heard the invitation to enter, so when the door opened he stepped over the threshold, a little shaky on his feet. 

Spock was sitting on a mat on the floor, a PADD in his hands. The room was white and sparsely decorated. In fact, there was nothing in there at all, except for mats on the floor. God, McCoy was beginning to hate being stuck on Vulcan. 

Spock was still slightly dishevelled; his hair longer than usual, and wavy, rather than his normal sleek and neatly trimmed style. There was something very appealing about the sight actually...sexy almost, if one was going to get carried away.

Now, that’s enough of that, McCoy chastised himself. There was no point in bringing long buried feelings into this, especially such shallow ones and especially at this particular moment in time.

Apart from the tousled appearance he looked every bit the Vulcan, with his stoic expression and white robe, now sitting there looking at McCoy like he was some sort of strange exhibit. It was then that McCoy realised that he had just been standing there, staring.

“Hi. You have a moment?”

“Yes,” Spock replied but said nothing more, leaving them both in that awful, smothering silence.

Oh, good, and I thought this was going to be awkward.

“Do you wish to sit?” Spock asked, gesturing to a mat on the floor opposite him.

“Yeah, sure.”

Once seated there was another mortifying moment of silence, only this time with the added embarrassment of them both being at eye level, just looking at each other.

“What are you reading?” McCoy asked eventually, before his head exploded with the tension.

“I am reacquainting myself with Hodgkin’s theory of parallel planet development.”

“Good. Good.”

Another moment, until McCoy’s frustrations bubbled up to the surface.

“Jesus, Spock, why the hell are we talking to each other like we’re strangers?” Spock didn’t answer; merely raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we’ve known each other for years, we’re friends, colleagues...oh, yes and now we’re bonded...” He stopped there, feeling another rant building up steam inside him.

“You wish to discuss this?”

McCoy had to double take. “Don’t you?”

Spock gave an irritatingly nonchalant shrug. “We have been informed of the situation and of the procedure for removing the bond. We have been informed of any possible risks. I fail to see what more there is to discuss.”

“You really have no idea why I would want to talk to you about this?”

Spock stared blankly at him. “Do you perhaps have some worries about the procedure?” He hazarded a guess.

McCoy took a calming breath, clinging on to what little was left of his patience. “Of course I have worries, Spock. They’re gonna be messing around inside my brain again. I’m fed up of stupid Vulcans poking around up there.” McCoy angrily prodded his temple with his index finger.

“By ‘stupid Vulcans’ am I to assume you are also referring to myself?” 

“You could’ve warned me!” McCoy blurted out. The suddenness and vehemence of it shocked even himself.

Spock cocked his head to one side. “I have already stated that I was unaware of a possible bonding...”

“I don’t mean that,” McCoy cut in, flailing his arms. 

He stood, feeling the need to pace again. It took far longer than he would have liked to stand up, which just added to the frustration. It was hard to be dramatic when it took you ages to perform simple movements like that.

What kind of civilised people sit on the floor, anyway?

“I meant about the whole Katra thing,” he continued. It felt better to pace. Spock just watched his progress across the floor with interest. “I mean, you could’ve warned me about that. But oh no, nothing. Not so much as a ‘by the way, I’ve put my soul in your head and you might want to get it removed ASAP before your brain starts to feel like it’s coming apart at the seams’.”

The whole thing had come out in a big rush, leaving McCoy breathless and Spock blinking in confusion.

“That does not sound like something I would say,” Spock said. “And the Katra is not strictly a soul...”

“Don’t nitpick!” McCoy cried, rubbing his aching temples. “Drives me crazy when you do that!”

“You are being very emotional,” Spock said then instantly saw that it was the wrong thing to say when he received a heated glare from the doctor. “Please, sit down again.”

McCoy huffed, just for show, but did as requested, even though the floor seemed even further away this time. He sat and crossed his legs.

“Like being back at school,” he muttered.

“You are perhaps feeling stress at the situation you have been placed in,” Spock said calmly, setting aside his PADD. “I apologise for the inconvenience.” 

Hell, it was hard to be annoyed at someone so thoroughly contrite. McCoy managed it, though...just about. He had a lot of stored up, albeit petty, grievances against the Vulcan.

“Aren’t you stressed about it?” he asked, instinctively knowing the answer. “How can you be so goddamned calm?”

“I am a Vulcan.” 

Bingo, there it is.

“I don’t believe that you aren’t even a little bit worried about this thing,” McCoy replied and folded his arms over his chest. Now he really did resemble a petulant schoolboy. 

“I am not ‘worried’ as you put it,” Spock replied as he rested his elbows on his folded knees and steepled his fingers in front of his face. It was a familiar Spock-like gesture and one that McCoy was glad to see, in spite of the awkwardness of their current relationship. “Perhaps...’uncertain’ is a more apt description,” he continued, looking chagrined about it. Well, about as chagrined as a Vulcan could look.

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Careful now, don’t go getting crazy and emotional on me,” he mumbled sarcastically.

“I think that you are perhaps more qualified than I, to quantify emotions, Doctor,” Spock said, ignoring McCoy’s sarcasm. “How do you feel about this?”

“Scared,” McCoy answered without missing a beat. “No, make that ‘terrified’. I know it’s gonna seem irrational to you, but I don’t like the idea of having my head messed around with again. Even without the risks. The human brain doesn’t cope well with this much tampering.”

McCoy’s tone became less angry and more dejected. He wrapped his arms around himself as though he was cold (which was physically impossible during the day, in that region of Vulcan), and he looked down, unseeing, at the floor.

“Have you considered not going through with the removal procedure?” Spock said after a moment’s careful thought, weighing up pros and cons in his mind and theorising on the possible outcomes of his chosen course of action.

McCoy looked sharply up at Spock, surprise registering on his face. 

He blinked a few times. “Sorry, Spock, maybe I need to run a hearing test on myself, but I could’ve sworn you just asked if I’d considered not going through with the removal procedure.”

“You heard correctly, Doctor,” Spock answered. His tone was far too calm and collected. It irritated the hell out of McCoy. “It is a possibility.”

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

It was Spock’s turn to look confused. “You should know better than anyone that I am, in fact, in my mind once more.”

McCoy’s fists clenched and he felt his fingernails bite into the flesh of his palms. “Stop being so damned literal,” he growled.

“I apologise, Doctor.”

McCoy narrowed his eyes and studied Spock’s face intently, trying to spot any signs that the Vulcan was winding him up. His gaze was met with a look of pure innocence.

“Of course I haven’t thought about that,” McCoy answered plainly. “After all, it’s not just my mind involved here. I mean, how would you feel about staying bonded to me for the rest of your life?” He let out a short, soft, nervous laugh.

“I would not be averse to the idea, Doctor,” Spock replied.

At the look on McCoy’s face, the casual observer might have assumed that Spock had reached across and struck him. Spock could not remember ever having seen the doctor look more wide-eyed. It would have been comical, had Spock been the sort of person to appreciate comedy. 

When McCoy didn’t say anything for a while Spock began to grow concerned.

“Are you all right, Doctor?”

McCoy seemed to snap out of it at Spock’s words and he shook his head, as if astonishment was a physical thing that could be shaken off. “What? Are you crazy?” Spock had a feeling that those questions were rhetorical. And he was right. “Why...you...why would you want to stay this way? We...we argue, we bitch at each other. You don’t even...like me...in that way.”

McCoy seemed to be having trouble articulating himself, which was not like him at all. 

“If it is your belief that I do not find you physically attractive,” Spock said, his voice still annoyingly even, “then you are mistaken.”

There was that wide-eyed look again. McCoy stared, open mouthed, blinking, still looking like he had been slapped hard across the face.

“I need to sit down,” McCoy said.

“You are sitting down.”

“Oh, right...yeah.” Oddly, he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. “Then I need a drink.”

“There is no alcohol in my father’s house.”

Goddamn it!

McCoy felt himself laugh. He couldn’t control it and it sounded very humourless, but it started as a gentle trickle, a trickle that threatened to turn into a torrent of hysteria if he didn’t keep himself in check.

“It’s funny, Spock,” he managed to get out. “And you’re gonna laugh when you hear this...well not laugh because you don’t ever laugh...but for a moment there I thought you said that you found me attractive.”

“I do,” Spock confirmed. “I always have found you attractive. Even when I also found you...trying.” And he wasn’t finished there. “I would also admit to having developed feelings of a...shall we say, ‘romantic’ nature towards you over the years.”

The laughter died on his lips and McCoy’s shoulders slumped. His head had begun to swim; his thoughts went fuzzy. “I need to lie down.”

He flopped backwards on the mat. The floor was hard and it hurt his back but he was beyond caring about it. No, he was clearly trapped in a surreal dream. He half expected to find that he was naked as well, in front of all his old high school classmates. Wasn’t that a common aspect of weird dreams?

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to wake up.

“Are you quite all right, Doctor?” he heard Spock ask. He sounded closer than before. 

Sure enough, McCoy opened his eyes and found Spock kneeling over him, looking down at him with concern. It was hard to spot concern on a Vulcan’s face, but McCoy had had years of practice.

“Spock, I’m trapped in a weird dream,” he said in a dramatic whisper. “A weird dream where you admit to being in love with me and say you want to marry me.”

He wasn’t sure whether Spock knew he was joking. He certainly answered in a matter-of-fact sort of manner. “This is not a dream, Doctor. And I do not believe I worded it in quite that way...”

Spock was interrupted as McCoy reached up with one hand and he felt smooth fingertips run along his cheekbone.

McCoy felt the angular bone beneath his fingers and a tremor of...was that emotion coming from the Vulcan? The bond had been closed off, mainly to protect McCoy’s fragile mind, but despite that he was still aware of Spock’s presence in his head. At the touch of skin he felt it intensify.

“What made you say this now?” McCoy asked. “I mean...why not before?”

Spock reached up and touched the hand resting on his cheek. The touch of fingers made McCoy twitch as a prickle of heat made its way down his spine. When had his fingers become so sensitive?

“It never seemed appropriate before.”

“And now...because of the bond..?” 

“Partly,” Spock answered as he continued to lightly stroke McCoy’s hand with his long fingers. “Also, death can make a person re-evaluate their life. I would have told you of my feelings, even if you had had the bond removed.”

McCoy’s hand dropped from Spock’s grasp, severing the connection between them.

“Spock,” McCoy said, his voice cracking. He couldn’t believe he was about to utter these words. “Are you in love with me?”

Spock seemed to smile at him. “Those words do not hold much meaning in Vulcan society.”

McCoy was about to rebuke him for dodging the question but he was cut off as Spock rested his fingers against the meld points on his face.

“I will show you.”

It was a familiar action to him now, but the sensation was like nothing he had ever felt in his life and it hit him like a jolt of electricity. The whole room suddenly felt positively charged and the static tingled and crackled along his skin, making him squirm in what could only be described as ‘pure bliss’. 

Yet, as good as it made his body feel (and boy, did that feel good) he was preoccupied by the firework display going on in his mind; flashing lights, beautiful vibrant colours behind his eyes. It was strange, completely alien to him and it was wonderful and frightening. All at once he was consumed with feelings of warmth, contentedness, affection, desire and...

Spock removed his fingers and like a flash the sensations were gone. McCoy let out a small cry of dismay as he was left shivering violently in the aftermath, feeling bereft. The room was spinning around him and McCoy was glad he was lying down, because otherwise he would have fallen down.

“Do you understand now?” Spock asked.

McCoy half nodded and half shook his head, unable to speak between gasping breaths. When he did speak again his voice sounded croaky. “So those are Vulcan emotions?” He didn’t fully understand.

“In Human terms, yes,” Spock replied. “It can be difficult for out-worlders to comprehend.”

McCoy’s skin still tingled and his body thrummed with energy. He felt rather vulnerable lying there on the floor still trembling with arousal and with his mind currently a chaotic mixture of thoughts, doubts and fears.

“Well, that was...wow.”

Smooth, McCoy. Real smooth.

“Too much?” Spock could see that McCoy was having trouble coping with the sensual onslaught of that particular sort of mind meld.

McCoy gulped. “Humans tend to start off a little slower.”

“Ah, I see.”

Spock leant over again, this time lowering his head as well, until their lips were pressed together in a gesture much more familiar to McCoy. The fact that it was familiar did not make it any less of a surprise.

Spock’s lips were warm, soft and firm against his, but he was hesitant and clearly felt awkward about doing something so Human. And McCoy was too stunned to do anything other than lie there feeling...well, stunned.

After only a few seconds Spock pulled away and looked down at McCoy, an eyebrow raised inquisitively. 

“That was the correct Human custom?”

“Yes,” McCoy answered, in a voice more strained and high pitched than usual. He cleared his throat. “I mean, yes,” he repeated, effecting a more masculine voice. 

“You did not respond.”

“Shock.”

Spock accepted the answer with a nod of understanding.

“I shall endeavour to warn you next time,” Spock said.

“Thank you.”

McCoy was still trying to get his breath back, and to gather his wits, which seemed to have scattered on the stagnant air. He was tired, physically and emotionally and was having a hard time processing what was going on here. Spock was in love with him, in his weird Vulcan way; had been for ages and he was now proposing that they stay bonded for the rest of their lives. And then there was that mind meld thing he just did, which, although erotic, was overpowering and scary and far too alien. 

It all made his brain hurt. 

In the space of a day McCoy’s life had turned into a kind of Vulcan farce. For a species with no sense of humour they certainly had a knack for absurdity. 

“I understand,” Spock said, intruding on McCoy’s private panic, “if you do not feel the same and wish to remove the bond. You have never indicated any romantic feelings towards me.”

“Well, no. You’re great...”

Great? Sheesh, McCoy, could you have sounded any more pathetic and juvenile?

“...I mean you’re very attractive...” His mouth was suddenly very dry. 

Why, oh why isn’t there any booze in this house?

“...and you’re one of my best friends. I do love you, Spock...” He was rambling now. Talking himself into a corner.

Spock seemed to sense it, though and cut in. “Doctor?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you again.” The promised warning.

“Oh...okay.”

And he did, more ardently and with more confidence. Ready for it this time, McCoy made sure that he didn’t just lie there passively. Instead he found himself pulling Spock closer to him, winding his fingers through the messy, silky hair and opening his mouth to put his tongue to good use. This time their encounter would be on his terms.

Much, much better, McCoy thought as he began his exploration. 

Spock tasted of the Vulcan tea that he drinks all the time and also tasted slightly coppery; very unusual but pleasant nonetheless. His mouth was hot and insistent and as the passion swiftly flared up McCoy felt Spock instinctively press his whole body against his, firm and warm, his scent exotic and spicy but clean and also familiar. The heat from early intensified and fanned out across McCoy’s body, concentrating mostly in his groin. The strength of his own desire was completely unexpected and yet it was painfully erotic. They began to rock against each other, gently at first, but their movements gradually grew more forceful until it became perilously close to frottage. 

McCoy was struck by the desire to let Spock have his way with him right there on the cold, unforgiving floor, despite the fact that this room reminded him of the Federation Mental Institution he’d nearly been shipped to, and even though the hard marble was killing his back. He had clearly gone quite mad. 

It was only the awkwardness of their position on the floor that kept from becoming unbearable hard.

He groaned into the kiss, half from pleasure and half from pain.

Spock pulled away. His lips were swollen and flushed light green. His breathing was laboured and his normally narrow eyes widened in surprise, evidently overwhelmed by the blaze of arousal they had both felt burn between them. It would be comical...if it wasn’t actually very, very sexy.

You’ve cracked, you know that, right?

“That is a most...interesting custom.”

Oh, the things I could show you! McCoy ignored his internal lechery. 

“I er, I have to get up before I find myself stuck down here for good,” McCoy eventually said.

After another understanding nod, Spock stood in one fluid movement and pulled McCoy to his feet as well. Vulcan strength was a handy thing to have.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, rubbing his lower back. “Next time we do that,” he announced, gesturing at the floor, “I want cushions, okay?”

“That would be a logical course of action.”

For a moment he seemed just like the old Spock, standing there, talking about logic at the most inopportune moment. That was definitely the old Spock, the one before death and Genesis, the man he had come to love despite all their philosophical differences, the man he thought he had lost. The sound of those words sent a shiver through him and he felt the slight sting of tears in his eyes. Spock was back in his life, wanted to be a part of his life, forever.

“I don’t know whether I’m in love with you,” McCoy said, hoping Spock understood the meaning of the emphasis. “I am attracted to you, obviously,” he continued, self-consciously shifting from one foot to the other, aware that he was still half-hard from their earlier make-out session. “And I do care about you. Very much. But I don’t know whether I’m in love with you. D’you understand?”

Spock nodded. “Might I suggest that, for now, we leave the bond just as it is, while we...explore this new relationship?”

McCoy raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting that we start dating?”

“I am unfamiliar with the Human term.”

“And the bond?”

“If our relationship is successful we can open the bond and live as mates.” He paused when he saw McCoy’s eyes widen at the implications of that word. “If our relationship is not successful we can have it removed as the Vulcan healers have detailed.”

The logic was flawless, as usual.

“Spock?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Oh, good.”

 

*****

Kirk found McCoy sitting on the couch where they had spoken earlier that day. There was a PADD on his lap but he was staring out of the window, looking like he was million miles away.

“Bones,” he said, breaking McCoy’s reverie. 

“Hey, Jim,” he greeted. “Repairs going okay?”

Kirk helped himself to some water from a large, ornate jug on the end table. “Just fine,” he answered then turned to look accusingly at McCoy. “I saw what you painted on the side of the Klingon ship,” he said. McCoy grinned, not even trying to deny it. “That’s not funny.”

“I thought it was funny.”

It was a little bit funny; Kirk would only admit that to himself, though.

“Did you talk to Spock?”

McCoy seemed to flush pink at that question. He looked down and began to pick imaginary lint off his pants.

“Er, yeah, we...had a conversation.”

“...And?” Kirk pressed before taking a refreshing swig of water. Stories of Vulcan could never prepare you for the heat of the place.

“And we decided to keep the bond where it is for the moment.”

Kirk was mid swallow when McCoy’s words took him by surprise, causing him to choke on the clear liquid. McCoy walked up to him as he coughed and spluttered, just to check that he was all right. He gestured that he was fine as his lungs desperately tried to expel the water he had just inhaled.

Once his airway was clear Kirk looked up at McCoy. His face was red from coughing and his eyes were watering, but he was smiling broadly. 

“Very funny, Bones,” he said, his voiced rough. “Much funnier than your paint job out there.”

McCoy took a deep breath. “It wasn’t a joke, Jim,” he admitted. “We really are leaving the bond where it is.”

Kirk listened in shock and fascination at McCoy’s story, wishing for the hundredth time that day that there was some alcohol available in this house.

“So...what do you think?” McCoy asked him as he finished.

Kirk just stared at him, open-mouthed. He didn’t move for so long that McCoy ended up clicking his fingers in front of his face just to check he hadn’t entered into a cataleptic state. 

“Jim? You okay?”

Kirk blinked. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked eventually.

“Well, that’s debatable I suppose,” McCoy joked, trying to stop Kirk from looking at him like he was a suspicious lab specimen. 

“When I said I thought you should stay married, I was joking!”

“I know you were, but...well...Spock made this seem like a really good idea.” McCoy suddenly realised that he felt happier than he had in a long time, even though his head (and his back) hurt like hell, and even though he was little terrified. “I would be an idiot not to give this a shot, right?”

Kirk had to admit that McCoy had a point. As odd and out-of-the-blue as this whole thing seemed, he wasn’t about to begrudge them even the slimmest chance of happiness. If it was what they both wanted, who was he to say anything? Still, a part of him was worried that if this didn’t work out, he would be forced to take sides. He’d lost friends that way before but it would be different, possibly unbearable this time.

“You’re not angry are you?” He had never heard McCoy sound so timid and unsure. It was so sad to hear that Kirk found himself shelving his doubts and fears for the moment. Maybe he would broach it later. 

He gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course not,” he said. “Just don’t ever tell me what goes on between you two,” he added as a joke, trying to lighten the mood.

They shook on that agreement. 

The heavy mood did indeed lift and they were both smiling, genuinely smiling for the first time since the whole business with Genesis started. The past few months had been so exhausting and trying. Even with the prospect of a Court Martial looming over their heads, it was wonderful to finally feel relaxed and happy again. 

That was when Kirk got a mischievous idea into his head, and his charming, friendly smile turned into a devilish grin. McCoy recognised it and started to slowly back away.

“Does this mean I get to kiss the bride?” Kirk asked, taking a step towards McCoy.

“I am not a bride,” McCoy answered, still backing away. “And no, it doesn’t.”

Kirk ignored him and advanced anyway. He made a grab for his friend, who just wasn’t quick enough to escape. He was never quite quick enough.

“Come on, just a little peck,” Kirk joked, keeping his arms locked around McCoy, who was ducking, trying to avoid his lips and trying to squirm out of his grasp.

“Knock it off!” he shouted, laughing in spite of himself. It always made him laugh.

It was a moment of utter childishness and one that would probably be considered unseemly on Vulcan. They had all had to keep their emotions in check during their stay and the pressure of it was beginning to drive them all a little bit mad.

Finally Kirk managed to manoeuvre them both in the right way and planted a kiss right on McCoy’s lips. It was only a small, insignificant kiss and he released him immediately afterwards, but it was a great victory, especially when McCoy blushed so delightfully.

“Why do you do that?” McCoy asked as he regained his composure, his exasperation only half serious.

Kirk couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered friend. “Because you look so cute when I do.”

McCoy scowled. “You’re crazy,” he muttered.

“I think you’re the last person who should be flinging those sorts of accusations around,” Kirk teased, before he wrapped his arm around McCoy’s shoulders. “C’mon,” he said, guiding the doctor towards the door. “I suspect that Scotty’s been hiding some booze in his room. Let’s go and confiscate it.”

McCoy let out a sigh of relief. “God bless the Scots.”


End file.
